


Make You Feel the Same

by fadeoutslow



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeoutslow/pseuds/fadeoutslow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was meant to be uncomplicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make You Feel the Same

"I think maybe he knows," Heikki says, seriously. 

Mark looks up from licking his way down Heikki's bare chest, and tries not to sigh in frustration. It's Friday night, another race weekend, another bed in another stylishly bland hotel room.

Mark had been looking for something easy, something uncomplicated and, now, he doesn't remember why he ever thought fucking his teammate's trainer would qualify as 'something uncomplicated' but Heikki was so blonde and smooth and solid, so _tempting_ , the way he offered himself. And Mark had taken the chance, ignored the tiny voice in the back of his head warning him that this had 'disaster' written all over it.

And though it was pretty clear from the start that Heikki was carrying a torch for Seb, that torch has, somewhat unfortunately, turned out to be a lot brighter and stronger than Mark ever expected.

Which technically doesn't matter, because it's not as if they're in some kind of _relationship_ , this is purely recreational, but it does make things slightly more tangled than Mark would prefer.

Also, having to talk about your teammate when you're in bed with someone is, if he's frank, something of a passion killer.

Still, he can't complain. He kisses Heikki, says, "He doesn't know." What he neglects to say is that Seb is Seb, and he's a racing driver, so all he cares about right now is the championship, and he probably wouldn't give two shits about Heikki's love life unless it interfered with his ability to keep winning races. 

But even Mark isn't that cruel.

He grabs a pillow, sticking it under his hips as he rolls over on to his stomach, hearing Heikki's little noise of appreciation at the sight of his ass.

"Come on," he says, and Heikki doesn't wait, his hands on Mark, the bed shifting with the weight of him moving as he settles between Mark's legs, spreading his ass wide, his mouth warm and wet against Mark's hole.

Heikki's… _thorough_ , Mark supposes would be the word. Slow and careful, always _considered_ somehow, every touch laced with a tenderness that makes it obvious Mark's not the one he's really thinking of.

But there's plenty enjoy, whatever the motivations behind it, and Mark moans, grinding his hips, Heikki's tongue exploring what feels like every last part of him, frustratingly methodical, until Mark feels like he's about ready to explode.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Heikki asks, because he always asks, and Mark's honestly never sure whether it's a tease or an actual question. 

_Bloody Finns_ , he thinks, but he says, "Yes."

Heikki leans over to the bedside table, moving back and then he's _there_ , two blunt, cool fingers inside Mark, nothing gradual, no build-up but then they've been at this enough lately that Mark doesn't need much.

"Come on," he says, again.

And then Heikki's bulk is over him as he pushes into Mark, achingly slowly, his weight settling on to Mark's body, and this, Mark thinks, is what he loves best, this feeling, of being overpowered, overwhelmed. It's not like fucking one of the other drivers, not at all. They're strong, yeah, but they're like him, all lean muscle. Heikki's _big_ , everywhere, and Mark can feel every last inch of him.

And maybe that's what this is about, losing control, taking risks, but none of that matters right now as Heikki fucks him, driving all thought away, steady and thick, every movement deliberately, relentlessly unhurried. Mark's clawing at the sheets, trying to get some friction against the bed but Heikki holds his hips, pinning him fast and helpless like it's nothing at all, _using_ Mark until he's finally finished, coming in one extended, drawn-out shudder. 

"Please," Mark hears himself say, and Heikki pulls out, tossing the condom to one side as he forcibly flips Mark over, swallowing his cock with practiced ease and Mark's barely got time to get his hands in Heikki's hair before he's coming, hard, long and hot into Heikki's throat.

He breathes for a moment, coming down, and when he looks again, Heikki's watching him, eyes clouded with worry.

Mark doesn't say anything, and Heikki shifts closer, resting his head on Mark's chest, throwing his arms loosely around Mark's body.

Mark hesitates, because this is weirdly close to being post-coital cuddling, and, up until now, this hasn't been the kind of thing that involved anything even remotely resembling cuddling, but, after a minute's pause, he gives in, palm of his hand rubbing uncertain circles over the muscles of Heikki's back.

And he can't help but wonder what he's let himself in for.

"It's all right," he says, sincere as he can, soothing as he can manage. "Seb doesn't know."


End file.
